


Plastic on the Ceiling

by ravenously



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, faint 2rus, might expand on that one later or it might just stay ambigiious, murdoc and noodle will appear later as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenously/pseuds/ravenously
Summary: Russel doesn't know when he started caring, but it must have happened somewhere in between 2D coming to his bedroom door, eyes red and nearly crying, and now. He isn't necessarily complaining.





	1. red

Far before Russel heard the tentative, hesitant knock at his bedroom door, he knew someone was coming to either ruin or complicate his day. The ‘someone’ was likely 2D. Even if the kid wasn’t a clumsy mess, all elbows-crashing-into-walls and huge, gigantic clown-steps, the way the apparent argument had risen through the pipes to Russel’s ears, muted as it was through the Spirit House’s old, thick halls couldn’t be mistaken. And no one’s voice was more unmistaken than the shrill incoherent mess that 2D’s was when he was upset.

Would it be a normal day if there wasn’t at least one meltdown?

Evidently not; the only question left was  _ who  _ decided it was their turn to blow the house apart. Was it 2D? Or whoever 2D had been arguing with?

Russel managed to take in a deep breath- 1, 2, 3- just in time to let it out in a long-winded sigh as the knock finally came.

“Yeah?” He said, regretting how sharp it sounded when he heard nervous shuffling coming from outside. He sighed again, got up and crossed the room. Opening the door a crack revealed the as-expected shock of blue hair and wide, nervous eyes. 

“...’D?” Russel asked, and tried to sound at least a  _ little _ less pissed off. It was hard, though; after hearing screaming and crashing for nearly twenty minutes, there’s only so much patience he can allow. 

Especially at nine in the goddamn morning.

2D shuffled from side to side. Though the kid was taller than the best of ‘em, he had this habit of squeezing all his limbs and angles together when he was nervous, hunching over like he was afraid of taking up too much space. In those moments, he looked to be, at best, eight years old. Certainly not a 6’2”, thirty-nine year old man.

“...Uh. Can I- I mean ‘s okay if not, but uh. Yeah, Is it alright if-” He cut himself off and shook his head, looking over at Russel and then away again.

“Stu, just spit it out, man.” 

2D blinked at the use of his real name, opened his mouth, closed it. One of his hands reached up to yank on his hair-- a nervous habit of his, that Russel tried to put a stop to whenever he caught him doing it, on account that he’d seen, more than once, 2D rip out handfuls of hair when he got  _ real _ anxious. When he saw the look Russel gave him, he dropped his hand to tug and play at the hem of his ill-fitting shirt instead, and finally blurted, “Can I come in?”

Just as he expected. “You gonna screech and holler in here, too?” 

2D winced and shook his head. “No- No! No, that was jus’- No. I’ll be, uh, quiet. Promise.”

“Somethin’ wrong with your own bed?” Once again, he realized after the fact how harsh he sounded; really, Russel just wanted to know what 2D was thinking, preferring to knock on Russel’s door than go to his own room. 

“Uh- No, no, nothin’s wrong, but uh-” He paused, blinked a few times, and then let out a reedy laugh. “Jus’ really don’t wanna be alone with, y’know.” He pointed a long finger at his head, pointedly not looking at Russel. Not really looking at anyone, Russel noticed. It was hard, sometimes, to figure out where 2D was looking, considering the strange way light passed through his, ah, peculiar eyes, made more difficult with how often he seemed to space out and grow glassy eyed. But now? He seemed to be  _ forcing _ himself to dissociate. 

He looked on the verge of a mental breakdown, in all honesty. 

It’s not like Russel wouldn’t know; he’d seen it happen before. All them, really, had seen the others break down more than any normal ‘family’ (a word that made Russel laugh, bitterly) should have to. But usually, with 2D, too many pills, or too much alcohol would bring something like this one, and certainly not at nine in the goddamn morning. 

Not that 2D had slept; the more he looked at the kid, the more it became obvious that 2D was running on the adrenaline from whatever argument he’d just had, and that alone. His eyes looked even more bruised than usual, hair greasy, and limbs stiff from weariness.

Russel sighed and stepped back, opening the door a little wide. “Come on. Get in here.” It wouldn’t be the first time 2D had crashed in his bed-- everyone had crashed in each other’s beds at some point (though, to Russel’s credit and something he’d say to anyone who asked, Murdoc only ended up in Russ’ bed when he was plastered and snuck his way in while Russel was gone).

2D looked like he was expecting a verbal blow rather than this, and slowly his brows-- knitted together, bracing themselves-- shot up in surprise. He looked up and blinked comically at Russel before sliding into the room, almost knocking his elbows into Russel’s side on the way. 

“...Thanks.” he mumbled, and by the time Russel had closed the door and turned around, 2D was already laying in his bed, spread out and staring at the ceiling. His expression, which had already been hazy and absent before he even came into the room, was slowly fading to that scary zombified dead look that it sometimes adopted when 2D was going through a particularly bad mess. 

And there was only one man who could make 2D look like he prefered zombification to life. 

“Nah, nah, you’re not just gonna space out in my bedroom and pretend like nothing happened, ‘D.” Russ said, and walked across the room to kinda… Well, ineffectually flick at the bottom of one of 2D’s bare feet. Still, it inspired a full-body jerk and 2D slowly sat up, arms entwined around each other like they didn’t know what else to do. 

“Wha-?"

“What happened downstairs?” Either 2D would shut down and refuse to speak, get a migraine and be  _ unable _ to speak, or Russel was about to have the floodgates opened. Luckily for him, he got pretty damn good at swimming during the whole Plastic Beach fiasco. 

2D opened his mouth and shut it, then repeated the motion several times. “Gimme- Gimme a sec, arright?” He slowly slid off the bed and before Russel had a chance to protest, 2D had darted his way into the bathroom connected to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. 

Knowing him, he probably just didn’t want to cry while explaining shit to Russel. At least, optimistically, that was the reason. He tried to ignore the very faint sound of the top of a pill bottle opening, instead letting 2D calm himself down while he picked up the room. 

If 2D was here, he’d be here for hours, and the least Russ could do was let him have a clean room to vent in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, I just have this 'situation' so shall we call it, planned. I'm not sure if this is going to progress into a linear long-fic, or if I might just dump small 'situations' in this general verse and see what sticks. There will be more to this specific vignette; I just really needed to post it to see if anyone WANTS me to continue, first. 
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://plasticbeachcasio.tumblr.com) . (Or just come spitball ideas with me c; )


	2. black

2D looked at himself in the mirror, then squeezed his eyes tight. Too tight, evidently, because they started to hurt, little trickles of pain leaking down into his head. If he continued to apply pressure, he’d give himself a headache, and potentially even a migraine and where would that leave everyone? Annoyed, at him. 

He squinted them open, knuckles white against the counter. He glanced at them, and begged his body to  _ relaz _ . Tall as he was, any tension coiled him like a spring, and at some point, the spring had to pop. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror again, 2D worked on uncoiling himself. All he he needed to do was wait for his medication to kick in, and he could go out there and talk to Russ without wanting to cry, or without getting too anxious that he chokes up. 

Sure, a few words might be slurred and the emotional attachment he  _ had _  to the argument Russel’s worried about would be gone, but. Eh, the goal of this was to make 2D feel better, anyways, so what’s a few pills hurt? 

It was all excuses and rationalizations and he knew it, but he didn’t very well care. Living in as tumultuous of a home life as he did, with the added benefits of mental issue after mental issue stacked on top of each other? He needed something.

He ran his fingers through his hair to sort it a little neater; it was greasy, and the locks were sticking together in a way that meant he  _ needed _ to bathe, but. Well, he’d never done a great job on keeping up on that, and the peculiar shade of his hair had always helped hide and disguise any grease.

2D closed his eyes and ran the tap and spread some cold water on his face. It felt nice, and he hadn’t cleaned his face yet, that morning, so it refreshed him more than anything else he’d done. By the time he was done spreading water down his face though,  _ something _ was kicking in. The water felt like satin cloth running down his cheeks, and the air that hit it afterwards felt like the chill that went down his spine whenever an entity or a ghost showed itself in the big house. 

He had to hold onto the counter a little harder to keep himself propped up when he finally opened his eyes again. It took him a second to focus on his reflection but it looked at least decently calm. Vacant, sure, but when was that new?

Russel had painted patterns of vibrant spray paint on the bathroom door.; it was mostly yellow, still, with flaking old paint. 2D popped his knuckles nervously (middle knuckles first, then the base, then backwards) and leaned against the wooden door, trying to gauge what Russel was doing. 

Sometimes, his hearing faded in and out. Along with his difficulties in paying attention and comprehending that the noises people were making had  _ meaning _ that he had to digest and understand and translate, sometimes his hearing just…. Faded out. Never permanently and never wholly, but enough that whatever focus he had for paying attention was immediately halved from just trying to  _ hear _ rather than  _ listen _ . For a second, against the door, his ears rung and he couldn’t hear, but it slowly faded back in. Stu strained to listen and decided that Russel must be back on the bed, waiting for him. 

He’d gotten up once 2D fled to the bathroom, he knows, because he had heard mumbling and cursing and the sounds of things moved around. 

After another few seconds of breathing slowly against the door, Stu fumbled for the handle and slowly twisted it, forehead pressed tight against the peeling wood. He had to hold onto the frame to make his way out into Russ’ bedroom, his vision and head flying far above the physical realm of the Spirit House.

He noticed two immediate changes when he finally closed the bathroom door behind him. One, that the room had been picked up. It made his mouth twist upwards into a goofy grin, because of anyone, 2D is the last one who cares about the cleanliness and neatness of a bedroom. Russel must have felt the need to pick up, or just needed to keep his hands busy while 2D ran away. He jerked to meet Russel’s expression and--

The grin slipped. Russel was looking him up and down, a disapproving, almost angry expression on his face. The same concern that was there when 2D first slid to his bedroom was there, but it was masked by a general air of disappointment. 

“....Russ? Whatchu starin’ at me like this for?” Stu asked. His hands, which had grown still in his comfortable amusement at the state of the cleaned room, started to fidget around each other once more.

Russel continued to watch 2D for another moment or two and then just sighed, and opened a hand towards the other side of the mattress. “Nothin.’ C’mon, sit down, ‘D.”

Now, Stu might not be the brightest, but he was  _ fairly _ certain Russel was just choosing not to air his grievances. 

He made his way across the now-clean floor and curled up against the wall once more, nestling himself in the corner where the bed met the walls. An apology felt appropriate, even if he didn’t know why, so he mumbled, “...Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize.” Russel said. Still. He looked like he was slowly collecting himself.

2D had always liked being in Russel’s presence. Yes, the man could be startlingly strong and brusque, but he didn’t leave you wondering. What he said? He meant. If he gave you affection or was angry at you? You’d know and understand that he wasn’t faking it, wasn’t manipulating you, was just merely… showing himself. 2D liked that. He didn’t like having to guess someone’s motivations, because he would rarely remember to  _ do _ so.

Russel was an honest man with a soul of gold who held his demons and past inside his chest at all times. He didn’t project himself onto others, he just did as Russel Hobbs was. 

He didn’t realize he was staring, until Russel squirmed under his gaze and said, “Stu? You gonna explain what happened?” 

2D blinked. Right. He came here because of an argument. He shrugged bony shoulders and looked away. “Jus’ somethin’ stupid with Murdoc. It happens.”

“Yeah. Little too often. What was it this time?” 

He shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter. I was pro’lly being stupid, anyways. Usually am.”

“Murdoc tell you that?” 

“Well, yeah, he generally does. Don’t matter. He’s right about that one, he is.”

Russel sighed. “Be as stupid as you want, arright? I just wanna hear what happened. It’ll help, anyways, to talk about it.” He said it in that tone of voice that brokered no arguments. ‘This is happening, deal with it.’ 2D loathed that voice, but also? Appreciated it. Especially in times like this, when his overmedicated was making his thoughts fly all the way over and around the damn moon. 

  
He sat up, linking his fingers together over his knees, and mustered up the memories of the argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short again, but trust me! Shorter= quicker updates. Next one will be flashing back to the actual argument.
> 
> Come find me, as usual, at [tumblr](http://plasticbeachcasio.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> So far, I just have this 'situation' so shall we call it, planned. I'm not sure if this is going to progress into a linear long-fic, or if I might just dump small 'situations' in this general verse and see what sticks. There will be more to this specific vignette; I just really needed to post it to see if anyone WANTS me to continue, first. 
> 
> Come yell at me on [tumblr](http://plasticbeachcasio.tumblr.com) . (Or just come spitball ideas with me c; )


End file.
